In the Darkness
by Eady of Old
Summary: Season 4 AU/Entire season spoilers – When Mrs. Hughes refuses to share Anna's secret with Mr. Bates, he leaves Downton Abbey.
1. Chapter 1

**In the Darkness**

**Summary**: Season 4 AU/Entire season spoilers – When Mrs. Hughes refuses to share Anna's secret with Mr. Bates, he leaves Downton Abbey.

**A/N**: My first Downton Abbey fic so I'm still trying to get down the characters' voices and the period style. Spoiler warning for all of season 4 because of events in future chapters. This story picks up in Season 4 with the episode where Mr. Bates confronts Mrs. Hughes about Anna's secret but explores the question of "what if" she refused to betray Anna's confidence, and future chapters will likely be a re-write of season 4. I kept a little of the canon dialogue but largely went my own way. As this story involves the Anna Bates season 4 storyline, I'm putting a trigger warning so please take care in reading. I tried to remain sensitive to the subject matter while exploring a little more of these characters. Reviews are always appreciated.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Downton Abbey. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

_"My wife no longer loves me. The sight of me is torture for her, which is torture for me. If you will not let me hear the truth, I will hand in my resignation now and be gone before she gets back."_

"Leaving? Why?" Lord Grantham demanded.

"I fear I must. Whatever I've done to upset Anna..." He shook his head. "She won't talk to me. She flinches when I approach and shrinks away from me when I try to touch her."

"And you believe that leaving will help her?" the nobleman asked pointedly.

"My being near her seems to make her more miserable. If absenting myself will give her some relief, then I must do so."

Grantham frowned but nodded in acceptance having already told his valet that he'd accept no resignation but would allow an extended leave of absence until things were settled. "Hopefully things will right themselves quickly and you may return to us without delay. Where will you go?"

"I know of a place in London where I can find work and board temporarily."

Bates thanked his lordship for being so understanding and holding his position for a short while in hopes that things could be worked out. But as he returned to the cabin he had so happily shared with Anna since his release from prison, Bates wondered if he was simply too proud to admit reality.

His wife had left him, moved back into the main house on the pretense of taking care of both Lady Mary and Lady Grantham. While she refused to tell him what he had done, Bates' mind churned through the possibilities. Perhaps she had finally realized that she was too good for him? That she could do much better than an old, crippled felon?

And yet, Anna had never even hinted at such thoughts. Quite the contrary - she had always reassured him of her love and affection, hushing any negative statements he made about himself. She'd always played the part of his greatest champion, and he could not imagine her suddenly behaving otherwise.

But the fact remained that every time she saw him, Anna started. Her back stiffened and she refused to meet his gaze. She avoided even a casual brush against him if they passed in the hall. Whatever he had done, it had turned her world upside down, and she did everything possible to keep away from him.

He'd overheard Mrs. Hughes confront Anna about some secret his wife was keeping from him. He'd always known that the sin of eavesdropping only rewarded the sinner with misery, but this conversation proved the adage in spades. Mrs. Hughes thought Anna should tell him her secret, why she stayed away from him, why she was relieved there was "no baby." But Anna refused, saying that her husband would know if she did not tell him the truth. And somehow his future was at stake.

However, when Bates confronted the housekeeper, she denied all knowledge. But he could not miss the look of pity in the woman's eyes. Even as he threatened to quit his position and leave the house - a place where he'd known both happiness and love and yet now had neither - Mrs. Hughes would not budge.

And thus, Bates found himself at the railway station, waiting for the next train bound for London. He'd only packed a small suitcase, preferring to leave most of his possessions at the cottage in the hope that he would return one day. The one small consolation he took with him was the promise he'd extracted from Mrs. Hughes to let him know how Anna fared in his absence.

* * *

A week later, as he'd settled in as a bartender at a tavern and took a room in a boarding house, Bates received his first letter from Mrs. Hughes. The missive proved both brief and heartbreaking.

_Mr. Bates,_

_I informed Anna of your move to London and she was beside herself with grief. She insists you have done nothing wrong and do not deserve to be run from your home. She hopes you will reconsider and return. From my own observations of her, I would say that Anna is much the same as she was when you left except that your absence heightens her guilt._

_Please return soon,_

_Mrs. Hughes_

He re-read the note three times, struggling to understand its meaning. Anna bid him come back to Downton but had not written to him herself. And the housekeeper said she had not improved with him gone, but rather she was worse. And what did Mrs. Hughes mean by "heightens her guilt"? What had Anna to feel guilt over?

Was it guilt over him leaving Downton, guilt at how she'd treated him before he'd left, or something greater? Anna and Mrs. Hughes had spoken of some secret and perhaps that was the culprit. Whatever his wife's secret, it brought her great shame, such shame that she refused to share it with him.

He'd never really considered the possibility of her being unfaithful to him, not Anna. But all the other circumstances seemed to fit. The flirtation she shared with Lord Gillingham's valet, her sudden refusal to have anything to do with her husband. Perhaps something had happened between the two of them, something Anna regretted and which caused her enormous guilt. A kiss? A touch? More?

The thought of Anna with another man was a stab through Bates' heart, a betrayal familiar from his first marriage but utterly foreign to all notions of his second. And yet, he knew Anna to be without fault. If she had indeed transgressed with Mr. Green, a younger man who obviously made her laugh, Bates could only blame himself for not being enough for his wife.

Anna asked for so very little, and Bates did everything within his power to make her life more joyful. But the fact remained that he was many years her senior, disabled, a former drunkard, and not long out of prison. Marrying Anna had been perhaps his most selfish act, but he'd done so believing that he could at least make her happy.

"Perhaps I was wrong," he said aloud to himself.

The letter from Mrs. Hughes sat on the bed beside him and he took out paper and a pen to write her back on the only other piece of furniture in the room: a small desk wedged into a corner. The rented room's cheapness explained its sparseness as Bates intended on sending every possible penny he earned back to Downton for Anna. She would need money to keep the cottage and he hoped, perhaps with him gone, that she might move back to what was once their home.

_Mrs. Hughes,_

_Thank you for your letter. Please give Anna my best wishes for her health and happiness as that is all I want for her. However, I will not return unless I know what has caused her such grief. My being near her seemed to cause her great pain and I can only hope that she may improve while I am away. _

He paused for a moment before putting his pen back to the paper.

_However I have wronged her, I will make any reparations she desires. I will do anything to make our marriage work. I will do anything at all for her. Anna can hold no blame for whatever has occurred. Please tell her this and tell her I love her._

_Sincerely,_

_John Bates_

He sealed the letter and delivered it to the post immediately. He saw none of the usual bustle on the London streets, his attention so many miles away at Downton.

* * *

A fortnight had passed by the time he received Mrs. Hughes' second letter, handed to him by his crass landlady as he returned to the boarding house after a long day at work. The time in London had not been kind to him as the draft in his small room left his leg aching and stiff. The bad food and dull mood caused him to miss Downton almost as much as the loneliness of being separated from his wife.

"You've got another letter then," she informed him unnecessarily before remarking, "And the name of that missus isn' the same as yours."

The woman smelled of chewing tobacco and too many cats kept indoors.

"Thank you," he responded simply, taking the letter from her hand. The return address showed it was from Mrs. Hughes.

"Steppin' out on your wife, are ya?" her voice followed him as he continued down the hall. "No 'onder she threw ya out."

Ignoring the woman, Bates let himself into his room and shut the door behind him. Lowering himself onto the bed, he paused before opening the letter.

Anna still had not written him herself. He took her lack of direct communication as a bad sign. Part of him wanted to ignore the housekeeper's letter, to put it away and put off reading what he knew could only be bad news. But he craved any news of Anna, any scrap of information as to how his wife fared.

_Dear Mr. Bates,_

_I must renew my plea that you return to Downton Abbey. Anna needs you even if she will not admit it. I read her your last letter and she told me she believes you deserve better than her. You know I cannot give away her secret, Mr. Bates, but it is tearing her apart. She is trying to protect you, bless her, and that is why she pushes you away. I will try again to convince her to tell you what is wrong, but I doubt I will have much luck. Just know that she still loves you and she needs you right now even if she can't tell you what is the matter._

_Sincerely,_

_Mrs. Hughes_

A line of text at the end of the letter had obviously been added later.

_Anna has asked that I include a letter from her as well. I have not read it._

_-EH_

He removed the small folded paper and immediately scanned through it. Words like _sorry_, _love_, and _pain _jumped out at him, making his heart race in a dizzying confusion of fear and joy. But he forced himself to read it from the beginning.

_Mr. Bates_, it began, and he let out a breath at the use of his last name. Anna sometimes teased him by being formal in private, but she'd gotten used to using his first name since their marriage. Pushing aside whatever hidden meaning may have been in the address, he read on.

_Mrs. Hughes was kind enough to let me read your letter to her. Thank you for your concern for me. I want you to know that you've done nothing wrong. I'm sorry for putting you through this. I love you, more than you will ever know. I hope you know that you're too good for me. _

He let out the breath he'd been holding and blinked at the tears gathering in his eyes. Too good for him? How could she even conceive of such a notion?

_If you will come back, I can find a position elsewhere. It isn't good for you to be on your leg all day serving at a public house. And your wages at Downton were much better._

His hands trembled as he read Anna's concern for him. Those few sentences showed more of the true personality of his wife than he'd seen in many weeks. But the last line of her letter was nearly his undoing.

_If you want to divorce me, I will not contest it. _

She signed only with her Christian name, but his attention stayed riveted to those final words.

Divorce.

Only a few weeks ago, he never would have considered such a thing. He could barely think of it now without the image of a life without Anna turning his stomach in somersaults. But his wife had broached the subject. And he'd been the one to leave their home.

Shaking uncontrollably, Bates read the letter again. His attention caught on her confession of love for him and her statement that he was too good for her. By everything that she'd said, he was not the source of whatever was bothering her. Thinking back over her avoidance of him at Downton, Bates tried to view each moment with her in a new light.

Self loathing. Hatred. Disgust. Guilt. Shame. Rather than anger at him, she felt these things about herself. Whatever the source of her distress, Anna blamed herself. And she kept away from him in an attempt to protect him from... something.

Had she committed adultery, and wished to spare him from that knowledge? It would explain her guilt and fear of him, and the offer of divorce made sense. But surely she must know he would never hurt her, no matter what she'd done? If she still loved him, it was something they could move past.

Pulling out a piece of paper, he wrote to Anna directly.

_My dearest Anna,_

_In your letter to me, you spoke of divorce. I know of no grounds to seek it even if I wished to do so, which I do not. If you have something to confess which you believe will make me divorce you, know this instead: I want you. I want our life together. Whatever drives your guilt and suffering, if it is something you believe you have done, you have my forgiveness. I would never hurt you, Anna. I never want to be parted from you. _

_I cannot believe you would ever commit an act of infidelity, but if that is the source of all this, I forgive you. You are a young, beautiful, vivacious woman and I have tied you to a broken old man. I know your own honor would torture you for an act you perceive as adultery, but nothing in this world is black and white. I have existed in gray shadows for so long that I would never throw stones, and I can only assume it was because a failing on my part. But if you still love me, if you still want to be with me, I will rejoice in that and forget everything else. Please tell me. My life is nothing without you. _

_Always,_

_Your loving husband_

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thank you to everyone for the feedback on the first chapter! I'm accustomed to writing angst, but this has been a difficult story to craft and I appreciate hearing what people think.

* * *

"So she's found out 'bout ya steppin' out on 'er, eh?" the landlady cackled at him as she handed over the letter to Bates.

Usually his interacts with the vile woman left him wondering if he should look for lodgings elsewhere. But today the oddness of her commentary sent his heart racing as he looked at the return address on the post.

_Mrs. A. Bates_

A letter from Anna. He'd ripped open the envelope even before getting to his room, only bothering to pull the door shut behind him before reading the letter contained therein so his landlady would not have the pleasure of seeing his reaction.

_Dear Mr. Bates,_

He frowned at the absence of his Christian name once again.

_This is a very difficult letter to write. I know you understand because I am sure it is a difficult letter to read as well._

Bates found himself nodding along with her assessment even as his stomach dropped uncomfortably. As he did so, he noticed a few smudges on the page which had been blotted but still bore the tell-tale marks of dried liquid.

Tears, he realized. She'd been crying as she wrote the letter.

_You once told me to forget you and to be happy without you. I couldn't do as you asked, not in those circumstances. And yet I find myself telling you to do the same. Please forget about me. _

As if he could follow her directive any more than she'd followed his. He could never forget about her. The past few weeks in London parted from her had been excruciating. Half a dozen times he'd resolved to return to Downton. Mrs. Hughes' letters detailing her terrible condition left him mad with worry. Only the memory of her pulling away from him, miserable and desperate to be out of his sight, stopped him.

_Telling you what you want to know will not help anything. If you believe me to be unfaithful, use that belief to justify the anger you must be feeling and move on. Your generosity of spirit is a miracle, but I am unworthy of your forgiveness and I cannot begin to forgive myself. I know I've hurt you, and for that, I can only offer you my eternal regrets._

_-Anna _

He re-read the letter three times before arriving at the conclusion that she'd revealed nothing. While she'd heavily implied an admission of guilt to infidelity, Anna never came right out and made the claim.

But why would she implicate herself in adultery if it was untrue? He would never have suspected Anna of such a thing if not for her recent behavior. And even now, Bates could not imagine her betraying him. Not Anna. Her character would never allow such a thing.

He'd pulled out a page of paper to write her back when he heard a commotion in the hall. The landlady was yelling at someone and a female voice answered. Curious, Bates opened his door and looked down the corridor to see what the disturbance was about. His eyes locked with the woman arguing with his landlady.

Mrs. Hughes.

"You cain't have your mistress 'ere," the landlady called down to him tartly.

"She is only a friend," he informed the woman, not caring if she believed him or not. Mrs. Hughes ignored her with practiced ease and walked past her to Bates' room.

"Liar and a cheat," the landlady mumbled under her breath as she shut the door to her own apartment.

"Mr. Bates," the Downton housekeeper greeted him.

"Hello, Mrs. Hughes," he responded.

"I'm here about Anna."

"Come inside."

He watched as her eyes darted around the tiny room before finally settling on his tidy bed. Frowning at the possible impropriety of being in his bedroom alone with him, she sat primly on the edge of the mattress. Bates turned around the chair from the small table and sat down facing her.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Dreadful," Mrs. Hughes pronounced. "After you left, she only got worse. She's a ghost in that house, Mr. Bates. She barely eats, almost never speaks."

"Will you tell me why?" he asked quietly. Holding up Anna's note, he added, "I've had a letter from her and she still refuses to reveal her secret. Instead, she urged me to forget her and move on. I think you know that's impossible for me, Mrs. Hughes. Please end this purgatory of ignorance."

Mrs. Hughes frowned at Anna's letter but did not seem surprised by it. "I fear I must tell you. You are clearly too stubborn to return without knowing, and she will die of a broken heart before revealing it." She paused before adding, "Anna told me what you said in your letter to her. She said you suggested that she might have been unfaithful to you."

"I would never accuse her-"

She stopped him with a shake of her head. "I know you wouldn't. But I couldn't stand her letting you even consider such a notion."

"I know she would never do it, Mrs. Hughes. But she punishes herself so. I only wanted her to know that if something had happened... if she had a moment of weakness, so to speak... I would forgive her. Whatever it is, we can move past it. If she still loves me, I would not put her aside."

His voice broke as he thought of his pretty wife, so young and full of life, hampered by shame and despair. Anna once told him when he'd still been married to Vera that she'd live in sin with him, that she did not care if his wife tried to ruin her. The only ruin she recognized was to be without him. He understood that sentiment better in this moment than any other of his life. He could survive knowing Anna had sinned against him, just as Vera had done so much during his first marriage, if only he could have her back in his life.

"I do not believe Anna could ever be unfaithful to me. But if by some chance she has, if something happened and she succumbed to some desire for more than a crippled old man-"

"Mr. Bates," the housekeeper interrupted disapprovingly.

"-I cannot blame her. I cannot and I will not. And she need not fear that I would be angry at her or that I would divorce her. You see, Mrs. Hughes, I know what a lucky man I am. I know that when Anna married me, I received more happiness than I could ever possibly deserve. If she still wants me, nothing else matters. And if she doesn't want me... if she's found happiness elsewhere and is only tortured by the commitment she made to me-"

He'd let her go. Of course he would. How could he trap her with him, miserable and frightened? Even if it crushed his life into dust to lose her, the selfishness of keeping her in a marriage she detested-

"Anna was raped."

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Mrs. Hughes' words fell on him like great mill stones and the breath was instantly driven from his body.

Raped.

The explanation which Bates' mind had been unwilling to actually voice finally began screaming at him. He'd been _hoping_ it was adultery, he realized suddenly. That Anna had chosen the forbidden act, despite it being completely contrary to her nature, was preferable to what Mrs. Hughes had just revealed. He could have lived with her kissing another man, perhaps even loving another man. But to know she'd been _forced_?

Bates knew Anna would never have betray her vows to him, not willingly. Instead his wife had endured a cruel violation of both her body and soul. And in her guilt and despair, she'd been pushing him away ever since. Some part of him had known it was as bad as this all along, considering the bruises on her face that night, but he hadn't been able to face it until now.

"How..." he began, but found himself momentarily unable to speak.

"It was the last night of the house party," Mrs. Hughes revealed quietly. "I returned from the concert to find her in my sitting room. I helped her clean up. I tried to get the doctor but she wouldn't let me. She didn't want anyone to know, including you, Mr. Bates."

"She told me she fell."

How foolish that sounded to his own ears. He thought about the bruises and her cut lip, the injuries almost overshadowed by her changed demeanor. Obviously, Anna was hurt in the attack. She'd likely fought back, screamed for help. But with everyone upstairs at the concert, no one would have heard her cries.

His eyes slammed shut at the image of Anna, terrorized and alone, calling out for him while he sat upstairs enjoying the music.

Pushing aside his own feelings, he ground out the question, "Who was it?"

Mrs. Hughes hesitated before answering, "I don't know. I have my suspicions, but she wouldn't tell me. She didn't tell you about the attack because she thought if you found out who did it, you'd kill the man. And with your history with the law, a judge would not be lenient."

The flow of logic sounded so much like Anna that he could hardly breath. "She's protecting me. That's why she's kept her distance?" he demanded, his body shaking with anger and pain for his wife.

"'Better a broken heart than a broken neck,'" Mrs. Hughes confirmed, and it sounded as though she was quoting Anna. "But beyond that, she feels... soiled by what happened, as though she's now unworthy of you."

The thought of Anna ever in this life being unworthy of _him _was so foreign a concept that Bates could barely wrap his mind around it. But he had seen the victims of this atrocious crime before, while he was in the army. He'd seen the shame they carried despite it not being their fault. Beyond the horrible act of forced intimacy, the victim had to face not only the doubts and recriminations of anyone they told, but of their own fragile psyches.

And now Anna...

"I shouldn't have left Downton."

"No, you shouldn't have," Mrs. Hughes agreed.

"I'll go back straight away. Does she know you've come here?"

The housekeeper shook her head. "No, she'd be horrified if she knew. And I suspect she'll hate me when she finds out I've told you."

"You say that you don't know who did it, Mrs. Hughes, but you suspect a man. You think it was Mr. Green, don't you?"

Bates could not hear the anger in his own voice, but he saw its effect on the woman along with his guess. "You know I can't say-"

"Did she tell you who it was?"

"No, she never specifically told me."

"If it was Green, he's a dead man."

Mrs. Hughes admonished, "This attitude is exactly the reason Anna didn't tell you. I know you're upset, Mr. Bates - that's perfectly understandable - but she needs you now. She needs your understanding and your patience. The last thing she needs is for you to go off on a vendetta and die in a hangman's noose."

Bates wished he was a better man. He wished that he could push aside the murderous impulses rising up inside of him. But the thought of someone hurting Anna - precious, sweet Anna, who rarely had a cross word for anyone - made his blood boil and tinted his vision red with hatred. She deserved justice, but Bates knew as well as anyone how unlikely that would be, not for this sort of crime. Rape was difficult to prove, and Green would likely argue that it had been consensual. While Anna's injuries proved otherwise, he doubted she'd make it through a trial.

So instead of justice, Bates would make sure she had vengeance. He was a patient man, and his time in prison had taught him much about how these things were done. Anna would not need to worry about him being caught.

"I understand, Mrs. Hughes."

* * *

He and Mrs. Hughes arrived on the last train from London, Bates having quit his job at the tavern and left the boarding house with all due haste. His landlady had screamed at him about giving no notice, and he'd happily ignored the woman.

A car was waiting to take them back to Downton. While Mrs. Hughes had given him frequent glances on the train, they had been rather silent traveling companions, for which he was grateful. His own thoughts so preoccupied him that he forgot the housekeeper was even there.

He went up to see Lord Grantham as soon as they arrived at the house. He found Thomas filling in for him as valet and dressing His Lordship for bed.

"Look what the cat dragged in," the under butler muttered at Bates' appearance.

"Bates!" Lord Grantham greeted him more warmly. "You've returned. Is everything settled, then?"

"I hope so, milord." He gave an obvious glance at Thomas before speaking more, and taking the hint, the Earl dismissed the younger man.

"Clearly you have found out the problem. Can you tell me what it is?" Lord Grantham asked.

"No, milord. I'm afraid it is of a delicate nature and not my secret to tell."

Grantham nodded gravely, perhaps understanding too much.

"Will you be able to resume your duties straight away?"

"That is my hope. But first I must check on Anna."

"You mean you haven't seen her yet? Well, what are you waiting for, man?"

* * *

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

By the time he got downstairs, most of the servants had gone up to sleep. But Mrs. Hughes was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed as she glanced nervously down the corridor.

"Has she gone up to bed?" he asked the housekeeper.

"No. She rarely goes up before midnight, one o'clock any more. And then she only sleeps for a few hours before getting up early, if she sleeps at all."

"Where is she?"

"In the boot room." Frowning at him, Mrs. Hughes said, "Mister Bates... I know this is difficult, but please take care of her."

He nodded at the request, understanding the woman's silent plea. Anna needed his love and support, not his fury over her attacker. And now that he knew what was wrong, knew that he hadn't done something to estrange his wife and cause her to hate him, he had every intention of giving her whatever she might need. "I will," he said.

Bates found Anna scrubbing and polishing Lady Mary's black heels, although the shoes already gleamed in the clear electric light of the boot room. He saw Anna start at the sound of the door opening and glance quickly in his direction. But she relaxed slightly at the sight of him, and he thought he saw a moment's hesitation, as though she were glad to see him.

"You're back," she noted quietly, turning her eyes to her work once more as she continued scrubbing the shoes. Before, he would have wondered at her lack of response at seeing her husband for the first time in almost a month. Now, he could make out the underlying nervousness in her features as well as the restrained relief at his appearance.

"I should never have left," Bates responded, moving towards her with slow, careful steps.

She did not answer immediately but after a moment said, "You had every right. I treated you horribly."

"I had no right. I should have stayed, no matter how much it hurt."

He saw her flinch slightly, but Anna still would not look at him. She seemed so thin and gaunt, as though she'd eaten nothing and slept not at all in the weeks he'd been gone.

"I can leave here," she offered, her voice barely audible. "...find a position elsewhere."

"I don't want you to leave."

The words barely came out, his throat was so thick with contained emotion. Anna stopped her scrubbing momentarily, risking a glance in his direction. He smiled at her, but her eyes darted away again, as though she were a small animal in the brush which could escape the notice of a predator.

"I know what happened," Bates told her, unable to keep up the pretense that this conversation was about anything else. "Mrs. Hughes came to London and told me."

Anna looked at him then, standing up to face him with squared shoulders, the shoes and brush forgotten. She seemed even tinier than before, as though she'd managed to make herself smaller. Her bottom lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears. But her words were full of anger, "That was very wrong of her. It was not her secret to tell."

"She was worried about you. Almost as worried as I am." Bates stopped, not sure how to keep going. "She also wanted me to know that you weren't unfaithful to me."

Anna said nothing, instead averting her eyes to the ground. He hated that she refused to look at him, as though she feared what he would see in her eyes.

"I didn't intend to accuse you," he went on. "I only meant that if that... if that was what all this was about, it didn't matter to me. But I was a fool for even considering you would do such a thing."

"But I _was_ unfaithful-"

"You were attacked," he interrupted her forcefully. He regretted the stern tone instantly as it seemed to be the lever which released her tears. Before him, his wife began to dissolve.

Speaking as she cried, Anna responded, "But it's my fault. I must have done something to bring it on, made him think... I couldn't stop him. I tried, but he was too strong..."

He stepped forward so that he was just in front of her but not touching. Oh how he wanted to hold her, to give her physical comfort. But thinking of all the times she'd flinched away from him, he dared not reach out for her or risk making things worse.

Instead, he assured her, "It wasn't your fault. If anything, the fault is with me. I should have been there to protect you."

Bates had been thinking about it all day, ever since Mrs. Hughes had told him the truth. If Anna was attacked during the concert, then he was upstairs listening to the music, blissfully unaware of what his wife was enduring. He should have known. He should have had some sense of what she was going through. Instead, he'd joked with Mrs. Hughes about Anna falling asleep. He would despise himself for the rest of his days for not being there for her the one time she truly needed him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he lamented softly.

"I knew the suffering it would cause you."

"Oh, Anna..."

His hand was halfway to her face before he stopped. Bates wanted to touch her, so badly, to pull her into his arms and kiss her hair.

"I'm no longer the woman you married," she explained, her voice cracking "I'm... dirty. Defiled. I couldn't stand to have you touch me."

The tears ran down her cheeks in unending streams, and Anna still could not keep her eyes on him. She would meet his gaze, then look away, and then back at him, agitated and shaking.

"Anna, you're not-" he began, but she interrupted.

"I'm spoiled for you. And I can never be unspoiled."

Her last statements broke him. Bates considered himself a strong man, having weathered much in his years. After injuring his leg in the war, he'd fallen into a bottle and a dark, brooding relationship with his first wife, Vera. Then he'd suffered through life in prison, taking responsibility for her crime while atoning for his own personal shortcomings. Finally, he'd gotten the chance he'd been looking for - a position at Downton Abbey as Lord Grantham's valet. The job was a dream come true and almost as much a blessing to his life as one of the first people he'd encountered upon walking in the door.

Ever since he'd met Anna, she'd been like a ray of healing sunshine on his scarred soul. She treated him as the man of honor and respect he'd strived to become. She made him a better man, the kind of man he hoped would be worthy of the love she'd shown him. And she'd stuck with him, through his failed attempted to divorce Vera, through the murder trial, and even his resulting incarceration. Through all of it, she'd been at his side, comforting and encouraging him.

Seeing her in pain ripped at his heart like jagged edges of a broken bottle, but hearing her speak of herself in such harsh terms was Bates' undoing.

"You are not dirty or spoiled," he told her, his throat almost closing with the force of his emotions. "You are my wife, and nothing could make me love you less."

He reached out his hands to touch her face, and for the first time in weeks, she did not shrink back from him. How could she consider any of this was her fault? How could she believe he would ever think less of her? To think of all she had endured, and in horrific silence because of him, because of her desire to protect him.

"You are everything to me," he told her forcefully. "Do you understand? Everything. Without you there is nothing. I am nothing. Anna... you are as precious and wonderful a person as you were the day we wed. Nothing has changed that. Nothing ever could change that, least of all something terrible that was done _to_ you. Oh, my darling."

Anna let him fold her into his arms as she began to sob uncontrollably. At first, body stiffened, as she were though unsure about having him so near, but as the minutes passed Bates felt her gradually relax against his body until she was clinging to him. Finally being able to touch her after so many weeks apart overwhelmed him almost as much as the sound of her quiet sobs. But Bates just stroked her hair and whispered endearments to her, over and over.

* * *

Anna spent that night with him at the cottage, walking home with him just after midnight. But neither of them found sleep easily after crawling into bed together, the first time since that horrible night of the concert. They lay facing each other, their only contact his hand laid over hers.

"I thought it was something I'd done," Bates confessed to her. "I thought you'd gone off me."

She shook her head. "Never."

"I'm just glad you still love me."

"I'll always love you," she said matter-of-factly. "Nothing can ever change that."

"Even though I failed you?" he asked. "I should have been there to stop it-"

Holding out her other hand, she pressed gentle fingers to his lips, silencing him. "You've just spent half the evening telling me what happened wasn't my fault. I won't let you turn around and blame yourself."

Chastened, he nodded acceptance of her words. The last thing she needed was to hear his self-pity at having been unable to protect his wife.

"I'm so sorry I put you through all this," Anna went on. "I never meant to hurt you."

Bates wanted to reassure her, to tell her that all the distance she'd put between them didn't matter, but instead, he let her keep talking. She truly had broken his heart, convincing him so thoroughly that she no longer loved him that he'd left Downton completely.

"I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid," she said, shame coloring her admission. "I didn't know how you would react, and I couldn't bear to lose you. So I stayed silent and avoided you as much as I could."

"You thought I would leave you?" he asked after a moment.

"No. Not exactly. I thought..." She stopped herself and looked away from his eyes, focusing on a spot on his shoulder.

"Tell me. What did you think I would do?"

He kept his voice low and gentle despite the sudden curiosity tinged with hurt.

Biting her lip for several moments, she finally looked back up at him and said, "I thought you would try to find the man and kill him. They would have arrested you and with your history, you'd have been hanged for murder."

Murder was not far from Bates' mind each time he thought of what Green had done to his wife. And he knew it was Green. Her silence on the subject – silence she kept to protect her husband - had forced Anna to sit next to her attacker at breakfast, to endure speaking to him and being in his presence. It made Bates dizzy with rage to think of Anna in such a position, and a visceral, animal part of him wanted nothing more than to tear the man into pieces. But as Mrs. Hughes had pointed out, Anna needed him. Revenge against Green could wait - for a while.

Anna went on, "I barely survived the first time they took you away from me. When you were found guilty and sentenced to death, I thought my life was over. I did not live again until you left that place and came back to me. I couldn't go through it again."

_Better a broken heart than a broken neck, _Mrs. Hughes had said.

He thought back to Anna's letter to him in London. _If you want to divorce me, I will not contest it. _

She'd have let him divorce her over this rather than risk him finding out about the attack and the one responsible, Bates realized. Despite the fact that she still loved him - enough to put aside her own personal feelings about her violation to protect him - she would have let him go to spare him a fate he'd already narrowly survived.

"You are an amazing person," he told her sincerely.

"How do you figure?" she asked sardonically and self-effacing.

"Because you are. You're strong and smart and so incredibly beautiful, inside and out."

Anna colored a bit at his description of her, and he thought he detected the faint ghost of a smile, but she quickly shook her head. "I'm not beautiful."

"Yes, you are. You are so incredibly beautiful, Anna. You were beautiful before and you are still."

This time, his wife gave him a real smile. The light in her eyes was still dull and muted, but he could see a flicker there of the old Anna.

"I think you'll have to tell me that quite a few times more before I believe you," she said quietly.

"Then I'll tell you every day." Taking in her sad expression and tired eyes, he said, "Try to get some sleep. I'll be right here if you need me."

* * *

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far to let me know if I'm going in the right direction. At this point, I'm retracing season 4 and exploring a few of the roads not taken as the characters try to come to terms with Anna's ordeal.

* * *

Bates had barely allowed himself to doze off when he sensed something was wrong with the woman lying next to him. Her usual still, sleeping form jerked slightly. By the light of the moon shining through their bedroom window, he could see her brow furrowed. A moment later, a muffled groan escaped Anna's lips even as her breathing caught and then quickened.

"No, don't..." she muttered, still ensconced in the dream.

"Anna, darling," he said, hoping to sooth her back to untroubled sleep with words alone, "It's okay."

She said something else, something unintelligible, her dream growing more disturbed. The only word Bates could make out was "please."

Speaking more forcefully, he went on, "You're having a nightmare, Anna. Please wake up."

His words had no effect as the dream made her even more agitated, thrashing against the bedclothes. He hated to touch her, but nothing else would wake her.

"Anna-" he began, gently shaking her shoulder.

She reacted immediately, moving away from him so forcefully she almost fell off her side of the bed.

"No!" she screamed, throwing up her arms as thought to defend herself.

"Anna, it's me. You're safe!"

Finally awake, she looked around wildly, still disoriented by the rough transition from dream to reality. "You're safe," Bates assured her again, wishing so fervently that he could take her in his arms. "You were having a nightmare."

Looking around as though to confirm what he said was true, Anna struggled to compose herself. Her small stature, the way she curled herself into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs, reminded him of a frightened child.

"Will you tell me about it?" he asked after a few moments had passed. The words were barely out of his mouth before she started shaking her head vehemently. She refused to look at him. "Was it about the attack?" Bates pressed.

Anna said nothing, frozen in place sitting up on her side of the bed, as far from him as she could get. They stayed that way for some time in silence. The odd physical position Bates found himself in put too much pressure on his leg, but he pushed aside the growing agony as he kept his focus on his wife.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't wish to, but it may help."

Still, Anna said nothing, and Bates wondered if all the progress they'd made the night before was lost. Finally, after what felt like hours, she spoke, her voice quiet and shaken.

"I dreamed they killed you."

"What?" he asked, not sure if he understood her.

"The dream... you were... executed. For murder," she added, still not looking at him.

Her nightmare involved him, not the terrible attack against her. She really did fear for his safety, for his future. He'd known that was part of her motive in keeping the attack secret from him, on the belief that he would kill the man responsible. But he did not appreciate until that moment how very real his wife's terror was.

"Oh, Anna..." he signed. "Nothing will happen to me."

"I couldn't bear it," she said, eyes shutting tightly against the images from her dream. "Tell me you won't go after the man that did this. Promise me you won't."

Bates hesitated. While he had no wish to upset Anna by refusing to honor her request, he hated lying to her. And any such promise would be a complete lie. Green was a dead man, plain and simple. A charming, conniving predator, the vile man had not only hurt Anna physically but put her through weeks of mental anguish with unknown weeks or months or years of recovery ahead of her. While Bates was not proud of everything he'd done during his time at war, Bates had learned how to kill a man. And his time in prison had taught him that sometimes certain things just had to be done.

And he'd do anything for Anna.

"You won't tell me who did it," he pointed out. "You'll have to tell me if you want me to promise."

She considered his offer for a moment before countering, "Promise first, and then I'll tell you."

Making a calculated gamble, Bates answered, "It was Green, wasn't it? Lord Gillingham's valet."

She went completely still at the name, and if he had any doubts at all, her reaction eliminated them in the blink of an eye. A look of utter guilt crossed her face, and Bates thought about how betrayed she must have felt. Green knew his game well, had gained his victim's trust through flattery and flirtation. He'd likely even organized the noisy card game to ensure that no one upstairs would be able to hear Anna's screams from below during the concert.

Her lip trembling, Anna said, "Promise you won't do anything that might threaten our future together."

The look of desperation in her eyes proved his undoing.

"I promise," he said, giving in.

"Swear it."

Bates sighed. "I swear it, Anna."

"On my life, swear it."

Her words hit him with the force of a freight train. He'd just made a vow to her he had no intention of keeping. And had she asked him to swear on any other thing in the entire world, he would still have every intention of breaking the vow and going after Green. But she'd deliberately picked the one person, the one life he would never, ever forsake.

Anna saw his hesitation and probably guessed at its meaning. She went on, her voice thick with emotion and her struggle against the tears, "Swear on my life. Because if I lose you to this, that is what it will cost. I would rather die today than live to see you hanged."

They both remembered the judge's words, sentencing him to death for the murder of Vera. And even after his sentence was commuted to life in prison, his time in prison had been difficult for Anna, he knew. But she'd always shown such strength and bravery, fighting every moment for his freedom. One look at her face showed that she would not survive such a scenario a second time.

"I swear it," Bates said quietly, and for the first time, actually meaning it. "But your life is too precious to ever put as the stake of a vow. I'd sooner swear on my soul and risk damning myself to hell for eternity."

She shuttered at his statement. "Please don't say that."

"It's true."

They sat in silence for a time in the wake of his words, and the quiet comfort of the house crept up around them as he watched Anna grow more and more tired. She still sat up on the bed facing him, but her eyes drooping with fatigue until she would sag, almost asleep, and then start herself back awake again.

"Please lay down," he appealed to her finally. "I'll go downstairs or I can stay and watch over you. But you need sleep, my love."

He eventually coaxed her to lie down again and pure exhaustion pulled her into a dreamless sleep. True to his word, Bates stayed awake next to her the remainder of the night, just keeping watch. As he did so, he ran through his mind the promise he'd made her not to go after Green and how he could ever stand to let that man live.

* * *

Anna recovered slowly, although Mrs. Hughes assured him that she showed vast improvement with his return. But Bates saw the changes in his wife only incrementally and with excruciating slowness. One day she would smile and even laugh at something funny, but the next day the dark cloud around her would return once more.

Bates practiced patience. Every day, he gave her what she asked for - space and time. He walked next to her every morning to the Abbey and every night back to the cottage without touching and often without conversation. Sometimes he wondered if the woman he had fallen in love with and married was gone completely. But then he would see her again. Usually it was just for a moment as she took his arm in the last few steps before reaching their home, or in the way she gazed at him over tea, or the time he overheard her say to Mrs. Hughes, "I don't think I could get through it without Mr. Bates." But Anna Bates was still there, struggling to be herself again.

For his own part, Bates saw each day as a battle against the tide of guilt which threatened to consume him. He'd long ago come to terms with being much older than his wife, perhaps even old enough to be her father, as some had whispered behind their backs. And after the Great War, with so many wounded soldiers returned home missing limbs or worse, his limp and requirement of a cane to walk did not seem like such an impediment to their relationship. He could even let pass the fact that he was a convicted felon, given the respect and position he'd earned at Downton.

But to know that on top of all his other failings that he hadn't protected his wife... it was almost too much to live with.

"You couldn't have known," she told him one night, when he confessed to her the source of his brooding.

"I should have known," Bates responded sharply. She jumped at the sudden anger in his voice and he chastised himself for frightening her. Restraining his tone, he continued more gently, "I know neither of us is at fault. I just hate that I wasn't there when you needed me."

"We both have regrets," she told him. "I regret leaving the concert. If I'd stayed with you, none of this would have happened."

Anna never actually admitted to him that it was Green, but Bates knew. He also knew that if he pushed her for the identity of her attacker, that she'd lie and invent someone else. Bates had known men like Green in prison and the army, had developed a sense of them over the years. He knew he should have kept a better eye on the man during the house party. Instead, he'd come off like a jealous old fool to Anna and allowed Green to get away with an unspeakable crime.

"As long as your regrets don't include me," he told her, keeping his expression soft.

"I only regret hurting you," Anna told him with utter sincerity.

"And I regret leaving when you needed me most."

"I don't blame you for going," she said, as though his sudden departure from Downton was an imminently reasonable response to her behavior. "I pushed you away. I let you think you'd lost me."

But she'd done it to protect him. Just as he'd left because he feared he was the source of her misery, she'd remained aloof and silent to keep him from finding out and doing something which could lead to his ruin.

"We are quite a pair," he remarked sardonically. "I wouldn't be surprised if you cut and sold your hair to buy me a chain for my pocket watch."

Appreciative of the reference, Anna added, "The pocket watch you would have sold to buy me combs for my hair."

He smiled at her, his dark mood temporarily forgotten. With a tentative hand, he traced the outline of a wisp of golden hair which had escaped her bun and fallen on her face in front of one ear. She did not pull away from him and did not start at the slight contact.

"Have I told you today how beautiful you are?" he asked.

Turning away from him slightly as she tried not to blush, she admitted, "Not today."

"You are," he said, pulling his hand away, "beautiful."

And with a parting wink, he moved away from her down the hall towards the servant's hall. Had he looked back, he would have seen her watching him, one hand held to the spot on her face he'd touched.

* * *

Weeks went by, and the days began to get easier. That horrible night was never far from either of their thoughts, but sometimes, they could get away from it for a while.

Then came Lord Grantham's unexpected trip to America. Bates hated the thought of leaving her side for so many weeks, but Anna argued there was nothing either of them could do to prevent it.

"I'll resign," Bates said, but she quickly quashed that notion.

"You will do no such thing. I survived while you were in London and I will survive now. Besides, you've never been to America. How could I be so selfish as to deny you this opportunity?"

The thought of being gone from Anna for so long worried Bates. She still suffered from nightmares, still started at loud noises and had trouble with people touching her. But when Mrs. Hughes tried to intervene on their behalf, Anna assured a curious Lady Mary that she would do fine while her husband was abroad attending to Her Ladyship's father.

"I suppose you'll have to go," the housekeeper told him sadly.

With a heavy heart, Bates packed for the trip. Thankfully, Mrs. Hughes had assured him that she would keep a close eye on Anna, but he knew that his mind would not be easy again until he was back with her.

"I love you," he told Anna in their brief moment together before departing, wishing he could take her in his arms and kiss her but not wanting to upset her with such contact.

To his surprise, she took his hands in hers and though trembling slightly at his nearness, she leaned in to kiss him goodbye. "I love you, too," she said quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: While I don't think Bates would ever in a million years leave Anna so soon after finding out about the attack, I wanted to explore the possibility of her confronting her own demons without having him close by. To that end, I am also shifting the perspective of this story to follow her.

* * *

Each day was a series of routines. Anna woke, dressed, and prepared herself for a day of work. She dressed Lady Mary, did her hair, and saw to her Ladyship's mending, washing, and sewing. Eating all her meals with the other servants, Anna sometimes engaged in conversation with the others, but she usually kept to herself. But everyone treated her kindly, even those who did not know what had happened to her but recognized the desperate sadness written on her face, even more so with Mr. Bates away.

While Mrs. Hughes checked on her often, Anna had plenty of work to keep her busy. Aside from the housekeeper, Miss Baxter proved the most friendly towards Anna, often engaging her in small talk while she worked on her sewing machine in the servants' hall. At first Anna treated the other lady's maid with caution, concerned that the woman was in league with Thomas just as O'Bryan had been. But it soon became clear to her that Baxter disliked the under butler and his attentions to her, avoiding him when she could and positioning her body away from him when he sat next to her. Anna suspected that Thomas had some information on the woman, something she did not want getting out to the others.

"I understand you and Mr. Bates had a difficult courtship," Baxter remarked conversationally.

Anna snorted at the remark. "Bit of an understatement," she allowed. "His wife refused to grant him a divorce even though the marriage was over. Her final act was to commit suicide in such a way as to frame him for her murder."

She revealed the information knowing that the other lady's maid already knew the story - everyone at Downton did. But Anna found it nice to have someone to talk to, even if it was over old wounds.

"And he was cleared of that crime," Baxter said, more of a prompt than a question.

"Yes, he was exonerated and let go."

The woman smiled at her with genuine emotion. "It's always nice when justice prevails."

"It is," Anna agreed, although the concept of 'justice' reminded her of the crimes Green had committed against her. Justice had not been served in that instance as the man still walked free, able to hurt other women and terrorize Anna with his very existence. But it was worth it if it kept her husband out of prison and away from the hangman's noose, she knew.

Life continued on in much the same vein for a while. She composed her first letter to her husband within days of him getting on the boat to America, unable to stay her hand even though she knew it would be a while before he received the letter.

_Dear John,_

_I know you will worry about me while you're so far away, but there's no need. I'm well looked after here. Mrs. Hughes must have been a hen in a past life, as much as she mothers me. And Miss Baxter has been very friendly. I'm not sure if she's a spy for Thomas as we suspect, but I like her. Of course, after O'Bryan and Braithwaite, my expectations may have dropped. _

She missed Mr. Bates terribly but refused to tell him so, not wanting him to regret accompanying His Lordship. Convincing him to go had been a singular task which she'd accomplished only by prevailing on his sense of duty to his employer and her assurances that she would survive in his absence. Still needing him to believe she was the strong, capable woman he had married, Anna focused her words on positive matters.

_I hope you enjoy yourself in America. Do you remember when I told you I wasn't going to the continent with Lady Mary and Mr. Matthew for their honeymoon? You told me that I was living for the both of us and that I should get us some memories. While you're away in America, I want you to do just that. See some sights and get some memories so you can share them with me when we're together again._

_All my love,_

_Anna_

* * *

"How are you today, Anna?" Lady Mary asked, just as she did almost every morning.

"Well, milady," she answered, not untruthfully. Blessedly, her sleep the night before had been uninterrupted by nightmares, an occurrence which was more the exception than the rule since her husband's departure.

"I understand we received a telegram from Papa. He and Bates arrived in America a few days ago. Have you had any letters?"

Anna shook her head. "Not yet, milady, but overseas mail is slow."

"I hear they are thinking of laying a cable to allow for transatlantic phone calls," Mary commented lightly. "How delightful that will be if they can pull it off. No more waiting for weeks for the mail to come across or settling for the brevity of a telegram."

Anna smiled. "I'd lay the cable myself, milady, if it meant I could hear Mr. Bates' voice."

Mary grew quiet for a moment and as Anna looked up, she saw the woman watching her through the mirror.

Taking great care with each word, Her Ladyship stated, "Mrs. Hughes wanted me to convince Papa to take Thomas to America instead of Bates. She wouldn't tell me why, only that you needed him here."

The question in her comment was buried too shallowly to ignore. Besides, she hated lying to Lady Mary.

"As I'm sure you've seen, I've not been quite myself, milady," Anna allowed, choosing her words just as carefully. "But it wouldn't have been right to ask for Mr. Bates to stay just because he's my husband, not for His Lordship or Mr. Bates."

Lady Mary frowned, obviously unconvinced. "Are you with child, Anna? Because I hope you'd tell me if you were."

"No, milady, nothing like that."

If she heard the relief in Anna's voice, she made no comment on it. "Well I hope Papa's business will be wrapped up soon and they can both return home without delay."

"That is my hope as well," Anna agreed.

* * *

Anna found out the hard way about Lord Gillingham's sudden appearance at Downton - by walking into the servants' hall and seeing his valet standing by the table, laughing and talking as though he belonged there. For the first time since Bates' departure, Anna found herself truly thankful that her husband accompanied Lord Grantham to America. She knew without a doubt he'd have seen the horror and shock on her face and discern the reason before she managed to school her features to the proper level of indifference.

Green turned to look at her, and Anna froze like a doomed mouse in the shadow of a barn cat. The way he smiled at her then, watching his smile change to a glare, she wondered how she had ever thought him charming or nice. Fighting against almost paralyzing fear, Anna forced herself to look away from the man. Her eyes settled on Miss Baxter seated across the table, her usual sewing machine out in front of her.

"Miss Baxter, I was wondering if you could let me have some white thread? I seem to have run out."

"Of course."

With a nod, Anna spun on her heel and made her retreat from the room. While she hated that Mr. Green saw her rattled by his appearance, she took pride in keeping her composure.

Mrs. Hughes followed her out of the room and the housekeeper gently led Anna into her sitting room, pulling the door shut behind them. "I'm sorry," the older woman said, "I should have found you and warned you."

"No, I'm all right," she assured the woman despite with a shaky voice. Looking down at her hands, she realized she was trembling.

"Of course you aren't all right," Mrs. Hughes intoned. "I certainly don't expect you to be. But just because Mr. Bates is with His Lordship in America does not mean you are unprotected in this house."

And suddenly the panic continued to rise up in her, uncontrolled. With Mr. Bates gone, she had no protection - none. Green could find a way to get her alone again, to hurt her. She couldn't bear it, not again, truly she could not.

"But what about tonight when I go back to the cottage?" Anna asked, breathless with fear. "What if he follows me?"

Mrs. Hughes frowned at the sudden problem. "You could stay here in the house. I could put you in a room with one of the housemaids."

But Anna shook her head, dismissing the option even as it was spoken. "I'd just be closer to him up here. And I wasn't safe here before. I don't think I could stand it, being so close."

The housekeeper sighed, then an idea occurred to her. Standing up, she slipped out of the sitting room and appeared again a few minutes later with Miss Baxter in tow.

"Thank you for letting me interrupt your work," Mrs. Hughes told Lady Grantham's lady's maid. "I'm afraid I have a favor to ask you, Miss Baxter. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind staying overnight down in the cottage with Anna for the next few days. It will mean you have to get up a little extra early in the morning, but I'm sure I can clear it with Her Ladyship."

The woman looked puzzled for a moment as she answered, "Of course I will, but why?"

Anna's eyes went wide at the thought of her secret being revealed, especially to the kindly but not necessarily trustworthy Miss Baxter. Mrs. Hughes said quickly, "There's been rumors of a prowler in the neighboring villages. It's probably nothing, just my old nerves, but I'd feel better if Anna wasn't all alone down there with Mr. Bates gone. It would only be for a few days, I think."

Baxter's expression reflected an understanding that there was more to the story, but she graciously agreed to the changed sleeping arrangements. She smiled kindly at Anna, as though attempting to reassure her that whatever the reason her company was needed, she would be there for her newfound friend.

They walked down to the cottage together after Lady Mary and Lady Grantham were tucked safely into bed. Baxter carried a small bag with a few essential items she would need over the next few days. And if she noticed Anna looking over her shoulder distractedly the entire walk, she did not show it.

But once at the cottage, after Anna made up the bed in the tiny spare room, Baxter could not help but wonder aloud, "There isn't really a prowler, is there Mrs. Bates?"

With a sigh, Anna shook her head. "No, there isn't."

"You didn't want to stay down here alone," the other woman surmised. Anna shrugged noncommittally and Baxter went on, "You know, I wasn't always a ladies' maid. I worked for a while in London... I saw things while I was there, you know? And I met a lot of people. Mrs. Bates... I haven't known you very long, but everyone I've talked to says you've been different lately. Quieter, sadder, more irritable. I don't mean to be impertinent, but I think I know what happened to you, Mrs. Bates, and based on your reaction in the servant's hall earlier tonight, I suspect I know who is behind it."

At Anna's horrified expression, she assured her, "I won't tell anyone."

Quietly, Anna asked, "What about Mr. Barrow?"

"Not even Mr. Barrow."

Somehow, the concession gave the other woman's words great weight in Anna's mind, and she nodded. "These people you knew... did any of them find a way to get past... these things?"

Considering for a moment, Baxter nodded. "It is difficult, of course. Very difficult. But you're lucky. You have a loving husband who would walk through fire for you."

Anna smiled slightly at the thought of Mr. Bates and how supportive he'd been through the ordeal despite his own guilt over not protecting her and his lingering anger at Mr. Green. "I don't deserve him," she murmured, mostly to herself.

"I don't know you very well, Mrs. Bates, either of you - but I think you likely deserve each other."

She smiled at the woman and her reassuring words. "Miss Baxter, perhaps you should call me Anna?"

* * *

When she entered the servants' hall the next day, Anna found a letter waiting from her.

"He must have written as soon as they arrived," Mr. Carson said as he handed it to her with his usual tone of bemusement. Giving her a kindly smile, he left the room.

Unable to wait until she got back to the cottage that evening to read it, Anna sat at the table and ripped open the envelope eagerly, ignoring Thomas, the only other individual in the servants' hall. She recognized immediately that her husband had not yet received her letter before posting his missive to her.

_My Dearest Anna,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. The ship is much as they describe in novels with many more amenities than we ever enjoyed in the army. However, there is little to do on board in my free time besides walk the decks, read, and think of you. But the seas have been calm and we are scheduled to arrive at our destination tomorrow. I plan to post this letter as soon as possible when Lord Grantham is settled, but I will write again soon. I wish you were here with me, not only so we could be together again, but because I wish you could share this trip with me. _

_I hope you are faring better. I hated having to leave you. Every second we've been apart has been the worst form of torture. If you wish for my return, have Lady Grantham telegram His Lordship and I will be back as fast as the next ship can set sail. Until I see you again, please know that you are always in my thoughts, my beautiful wife._

_Love,_

_John_

Smiling to herself, Anna re-read the letter a half a dozen times before she noticed Thomas staring at her across the table.

"Love note from Mr. Bates?" he guessed.

"Jealous?" she shot back.

"Not particularly," Thomas stated, his back straightening. "I don't find him all that appealing."

A second passed before Anna understood he'd intended his comment to be a joke. After the situation with Jimmy, Thomas kept a tight lid on his _differences _around others so she wondered at his sudden openness. Not that she hadn't known even before that debacle, but still...

"Well more's the better for me," she responded with amusement.

"I do find it interesting you settled for him," Thomas remarked, his tone more conversational than snide. "You could have had any pick of the men around here." He paused at the sight of her eyebrows raised in question before amending, "Well, almost."

Confused but not disliking the amiable conversation, Anna said, "I always considered Mr. Bates and me to be kindred spirits."

"You didn't seem too keen on him for a while there before he left," Thomas pointed out. "When you came in to breakfast that morning after the concert with those bruises, I'd wondered if he wasn't finally showing his true colors."

The sudden shift of conversation to reminder of her attack brought Anna up sharply, and suddenly what she thought was a friendly exchange with a man she'd known for years had become an interrogation. And even worse, Thomas was suggesting her husband had been to blame for her injuries.

"Mr. Bates would never do what you're suggesting," she declared, pushing herself up from the table.

"I weren't suggesting anything," Thomas responded cryptically. Lowering his voice and evening his tone to a more pleasant, careful pitch, he said, "But it's you took a beating from someone."

"I fell-"

"And hit your head on the sink?" he filled in for her. "That's a fine story for others, but you forget I've had medical training. And if it weren't Mr. Bates who hit you, it had to be someone else."

"Why do you care?" Anna asked, struggling for composure.

"'Cause we might not be friends, you and I, but we aren't enemies neither." With a shrug, Thomas added, "And maybe I owe Mr. Bates a favor and don't like being indebted. Or maybe I overheard Mrs. Hughes last night sayin' some things to Lord Gillingham's valet in her sitting room."

Taking in Anna's terrified expression, he stood up from the table to fully face her. "Or maybe I'm just being nice."

Wondering what Mrs. Hughes had said to the valet, Anna almost lost her grip on the chair she was holding on to. Had the housekeeper confronted Green? Why would she do that? And what had that horrible man said?

"What kinds of things was Mrs. Hughes saying?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing utterly.

"I didn't hear a lot. Sounded like the valet was insinuating something no one in this house would ever believe, and Mrs. Hughes wasn't buying it. But one thing I will wager is that lucky for Mr. Green that Mr. Bates is out of the country right now."

He gave her a pointed look, and after a moment Anna agreed, "Yes, it is lucky."

They were interrupted by the appearance of Mr. Carson re-entering the servants' hall with a cup of tea and a newspaper. Giving her one last glance and a nod, Thomas departed, leaving Anna staring after him.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: A big thanks to each those who've made the effort to leave reviews for this story. I really appreciate it and hope for continuing feedback. I also note that this chapter involves a flashback for Anna so I'll renew the trigger warning.

* * *

Anna soon discovered that she had another protector in the house, one she found less surprising than Thomas. With her behavior having relapsed at the sudden presence of Mr. Green, Lady Mary's patience with her unusually jumpy and clumsy lady's maid likewise deteriorated until she confronted Anna one evening as she helped Mary dress for bed.

"I heard that Mrs. Hughes asked Mrs. Baxter to stay with you at the cottage."

"Yes, milady," Anna answered quietly, refusing the silent request to elaborate. She hoped that Her Ladyship would drop it as she so often had in the past, but this night was different.

"You must tell me what is bothering you, Anna. I will do anything I can to help."

"It's nothing, milady," she attempted.

"It isn't nothing. I know something's wrong; it has been for a while. And I'm not letting you leave here until you tell me."

After a bit more gentle coaxing, Anna finally revealed her secret, feeling proud of herself as she relayed the details in a crisp, calm voice which for the first time did not end in her sobbing. Instead, looking up, she saw her tears reflected in Lady Mary's own eyes.

"Oh, my poor Anna," Mary said, enveloping the blonde woman in a hug. While they were not really friends - their positions made that impossible - she and Anna had a bond she did not even share with her sisters. And Lady Mary knew that Anna had always been there for her when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

"Who did this?"

"I can't tell you, milady."

"Anna, you must! You were assaulted in this house. You need to tell me who did it."

Anna hesitated before answering, "Will you promise to tell no one?"

"Yes, yes, I promise," she agreed absently.

"It was Mr. Green, Lord Gillingham's valet."

Mary gasped but quickly collected herself. Blinking back her emotions, she squared her shoulders and looked Anna in the eyes.

"You must tell the police."

"No! I don't want anyone to know."

"But Anna-"

"You don't understand," she said. "If Mr. Bates finds out who it was, he'll murder him when he returns from America. And this time a judge won't be so lenient."

"Surely he will leave things alone if the one who did this is behind bars. If we call the police now while Bates is in America-"

But Anna shook her head. "I made Mr. Bates promise not to go after him, not to threaten the future we've built together... But I fear he'll never let it go."

"If he promised you, then he won't do anything," Mary assured her. "Bates is an honorable man."

"Too honorable," Anna corrected miserably. "He blames himself for what happened to me. I worry he'll seek vengeance on my behalf despite the consequences. He went to prison for his first wife. Did you know that, milady? He didn't even like her much and he spent two years in prison to spare her that. He loves me, and I hate to think what he would willingly endure on my behalf."

"Then I won't tell," Mary agreed reluctantly. Realizing something, she put a hand over her mouth and said, "And now Green is here with Lord Gillingham. My God, Anna, has he said anything to you, tried anything else?"

"No, milady," Anna said with a shake of her head. "But that is why Miss Baxter has been staying with me at the cottage the last few days."

Mary nodded an acknowledgment, her mind already working. "Okay, well I'll take care of things to ensure he never enters this house again. I'll figure out a way to convince Lord Gillingham to dismiss him. That's the least I can do if you won't let me tell the police."

"Thank you, milady. I'd feel more at ease knowing he won't be back here again."

The next day, within a few hours of Lord Gillingham's departure, Lady Mary reported to Anna that she'd spoken to the gentleman on his leave taking about Green.

"He asked me questions and found it a rather unusual request, but he agreed to dismiss Green as soon as they arrive in London," Mary reported. "Lord Gillingham had already told me he never liked the man, so hopefully he won't be terribly put out by it."

"Milady, I can't tell you how much this means to me."

Lady Mary answered, "I only wish you had told me before and I would have convinced my father to leave Bates here while he went to America. You must be beside yourself with him gone."

"I'm glad you didn't, milady," Anna responded. "I'd hate for Mr. Bates to have given up a trip to America just to stay here with me."

With a knowing smile, Her Ladyship responded archly, "I suspect Mr. Bates would have given up his right arm to stay here with you, but no matter. He'll be home soon enough, I'm sure."

* * *

The weeks passed slowly after the day of Lord Gillingham's departure. Mrs. Baxter returned to the main house the same day, giving her temporary housemate an encouraging smile.

"You'll be okay on your own?"

"Yes, I think so," Anna told her.

"You must miss Mr. Bates very much."

Affording the other woman an answering smile, she said, "You have a gift for understatement, Mrs. Baxter."

"Please let me know if there is anything else I can do while he is away."

"Thank you, I will."

As Anna continued her way down the hall, she stuck her head in Mrs. Hughes sitting room and saw that the housekeeper was in residence. She'd been unable to get a moment alone with the older woman since Lord Gillingham's departure.

"Anna," Mrs. Hughes greeted her warmly. "Please come in. I was going to come see you later anyway."

Shutting the door behind her, she took a seat opposite the housekeeper, who reached out to pat her on the hand in a motherly manner.

"How are you?"

"Much better now that _he _is gone."

Nodding, Mrs. Hughes said, "I know what you mean. What a horrible, evil man."

"Thomas said he overheard you talking to him."

Mrs. Hughes frowned at having been found out, and simply nodded at the statement.

"What did you say to him?" Anna pursued.

"I told him I was keeping my eye on him and that I know what he did," she confessed. "I didn't want him thinking he had his run of the place while he was here."

"And... what did he say?" Anna asked, almost too terrified to know.

Shaking her head in remembered anger, Mrs. Hughes said, "Lies. Nothing you need to hear."

"Please, I need to know."

With a sigh of resignation, Mrs. Hughes responded, "He tried to say that you and he had gotten drunk that night, implying that anything between you was... consensual. The nerve of that man. Honestly, I almost had Mr. Carson call the police right then and there."

Anna had to look away, unable to withstand the pity in the housekeeper's eyes. But the flashback to that night came anyway, invading all her senses. The sound of his voice, the smell of alcohol on his breath, the feel of him-

She shuddered violently as she tried to push away the memory, desperately wishing she could magically transport herself back in time to when things were brighter and simpler. Knowing such a thing was impossible, Anna tried imagining herself in the safest place possible.

The cottage.

_The cottage with the windows open on a warm summer's day, the smell of lilacs in the air. _

Focusing on the fantasy, Anna strained to hear the noises of the cottage over her attacker's voice grating in her ear. At first all she could hear was the sound of her frightened screams echoing through the lower levels of the house.

_Bees in the garden and the distant laughter of children down the road. A gentle wind causing tree leaves to rustle quietly._

Green's ugly words slowly faded into the back of her mind as she focused on her mental image. She clung to it like a shipwreck survivor in a broiling sea.

_Humming. She heard humming._

_Across from her at their small kitchen table, her husband was humming as flipped through a book of poetry. _

_"What should we do today?" he asked her after a moment. "It's so rare we get a full day to ourselves. Would you like to go into town? I hear the dress shop has some new hats in the latest style."_

_Anna shook her head. Unable to speak, she simply watched her husband, drinking in the sight of him and the sound of his gentle, low voice._

_"Perhaps I should do some repairs on the shed outside. You said some of the rain is getting in," he offered._

_Smiling at him, she shook her head again._

_"Then what would you have of me today, Mrs. Bates?" he asked kindly. "I am yours to command."_

_"I just want us to be here, together for a while," she said finally, reaching across the table to take his hand. Favoring her with one of his typical smiles, the ones that showed in the crinkles around his eyes as much as his lips, he gave her fingers an answering squeeze._

"Anna?"

Mrs. Hughes' voice interrupted her moment, bringing her back to the present. Unsure how long she'd been sitting there with the other woman watching her, she forced herself to focus on the present and to shake off the last vestiges of the flashback.

"Thank you for standing up for me," she told the housekeeper, adding, "I'm just thankful that Mr. Bates was not here. I don't know if he could have kept his promise to me, especially if he heard what Mr. Green said to you."

"I must admit, I did not truly understand your concern about Mr. Bates committing murder, not at first. But having spoken to Mr. Green and hearing his terrible lies, I can't say as I wouldn't help Mr. Bates carry it out if he asked." As though realizing Anna was still sitting there gaping at her, Mrs. Hughes said, "Enough of that. Tell me, have you heard any news from Mr. Bates?"

Glad to be off the subject, Anna answered, "Actually I've had a letter from him today..."

_Anna,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I received your correspondence a few days ago. I'm glad you are getting along with Mrs. Baxter and I hope you are faring well in my absence. I miss having you beside me. When I was released from prison, I never thought we'd be separated like this again. Thankfully I remembered to bring your picture with me, and I carry it with me wherever I go._

_His Lordship's business occupies most of his time, so I have much leave to explore the city. In many ways, it reminds me of London and if I close my eyes and listen to the street traffic, I can almost convince myself that I am but a short train ride away from you._

_The Americans have passed a law prohibiting alcohol, and I'm afraid His Lordship finds it irksome, although not half so much as being served coffee instead of tea. While I'm grateful for the opportunity of this trip - the opportunity of a lifetime - I wish you could be here with me, Anna. We could explore the city and attend the theater and even see the shops with the latest fashions. Perhaps we can return someday together on holiday._

_I know you cannot hear me, so far away, but every day I tell you how beautiful you are to me and how much I love you._

_Yours always,_

_-John_

* * *

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** With this chapter, I obviously deviate from the show but I've tried to parallel some of the more major events. I anticipate probably one more chapter after this one. Again, many thanks to those who take the time to review.

* * *

"At least with Bates still in America I have no guilt about taking you with me to London," Lady Mary commented as they took their seats on the train.

"Why are we going to London, milady?" Anna asked. There had been some mention of dress fittings, but that reason for the last-minute trip seemed more suited to the young socialite Lady Mary had been many years earlier, not the grounded businesswoman she'd become in the past few months.

"I need to attend to some matters," Mary responded evenly, her voice confirming that she was on some unspoken mission the details of which she had no intention of sharing. "Will you be all right away from Downton for a day or two?"

"Of course, milady," Anna confirmed.

While she knew she was leaving behind the kindly affection of Mrs. Hughes, the friendly conversation of Miss Baxter, and the oddly thoughtful attentions of Thomas, Anna relished the removal from Downton, at least for a day or two. Each day without her husband seemed to hurt a little more than the day before. They had not been separated for such a long time since his imprisonment, and even then, they'd still had letters and visits. And while he wrote to her faithfully from America, the mail came far too slowly to be much consolation.

She spent her time on the train mentally composing a note to him, letting her mind wander to thoughts of their happier times together. _Do you remember Scotland? _she wanted to write. _Do you remember our picnic by the stream? _Anna remembered the easy way they were together, teasing and conversing without a hint of awkwardness. And the only secret between them was her determination to learn how to dance the reel in celebration of his Scottish heritage at the Gillie's Ball.

She knew that their lives would never return to the joyful simplicity she felt as he watched her dance that night, a look of wonderment on his face. But surely they could still be happy? Couldn't they still have the future they'd talked about with all the evenings and stolen moments leading up to it?

Her mind had not turned to thoughts of intimacy since the night of the attack. But with her husband gone so long, Anna realized she missed him in their bed, his solid form both unmistakable and comforting. She longed for the sound of his gentle snores and the warmth he radiated even when sleeping on the opposite side of the mattress. She missed his arms wrapped around her in the darkness, the feel of his breath against her hair, slow and steady.

And their more... private moments. Anna realized that she missed those times as well. Unlike Green, her husband had never hurt her. Even on their wedding night, he'd managed to minimize her initial discomfort before showing her exactly how pleasurable married life could be. Even with the shadow of what had occurred in the boot room that awful night still in her mind, she thought with longing about her husband. They hadn't been together again, not since before_ that night_, and John had made it clear that he would not push her for intimacy until she was ready.

With a sigh of regret, Anna wondered at the inconvenience of finally, possibly being ready to renew that aspect of married life while separated from her husband by an entire ocean.

* * *

Once in London, Anna helped Lady Mary change her clothes and began seeing to her unpacking despite the shortness of their stay. As Her Ladyship affixed her hat, she turned to her maid.

"Anna, I'll be out all afternoon, so when you're done with this, take some time for yourself. You've been working so hard lately, with Bates gone, and you should have some fun. Go shopping. Take in a film. Just get out of the house for a while."

"Thank you, milady."

And so when she was finished with her duties and she'd changed into street clothes, Anna went out. She scolded herself for being nervous about walking London alone when she'd done it numerous times before. Smiling at the memory, she thought about the trip when she'd accompanied Mrs. Pattmore to the eye surgeon and how she'd tracked down Mr. Bates' mother. That visit was the only time she'd gotten to meet the late Mrs. Bates, a kindly woman who adored her only son but was not blind to his faults.

She'd been the one to paint Anna a picture of John Bates she'd never known: an angry, bitter, drunken man left wounded by a war in both body and spirit. A man whose marriage he so bitterly regretted that he willingly went to prison for his wife because he felt he'd ruined her life. Anna rarely saw that side of her husband, the man who'd managed to survive prison twice, probably through ways she'd rather not know about. But she knew he was there, hidden behind the calm, patient exterior of the man she loved.

And she knew the man hidden within her husband would seek vengeance against Green for her sake if he could.

In some ways, Anna found it a relief for Mr. Bates to be in America and safely removed from all temptation to go after the man who'd attacked her. She'd never confirmed it was Lord Gillingham's valet, but they both knew he was responsible.

Anna never understood how Vera could let him go to prison for her. Even knowing how horrible of a person the woman was in life, Anna simply could not contemplate anyone so hard-hearted as to let her husband be jailed for something she did. The thought terrified Anna, that Mr. Bates might be arrested and imprisoned (and possibly hanged) because of her. She'd sooner go to prison herself than see him put through that again. She'd sooner give up her life than watch his be taken.

After wandering the streets rather aimlessly for an hour, Anna happened upon a book shop in Piccadilly. The smell of the books, the feel of the pages under her fingers as she thumbed through them, reminded her of her husband. Picking up a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets, she let her fingers flip through the pages. As her eyes scanned the words on one particular page, she could hear his voice in her mind reading to her as he had done many months earlier.

_"When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, __I all alone beweep my outcast state, __And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, __And look upon myself, and curse my fate..." _

_John paused in the midst of the sonnet, looking over to see Anna watching him with rapt attention. _

_"Why did you stop?" she asked._

_"This sonnet... it reminds me of you. Of being with you."_

_She teased, "Cursing your fate reminds you of me?"_

_"No, that part reminds me of before I met you, before we married," he said. With a sigh, he began to speak. "Anna... my life would be nothing without you, without your love. You know that, don't you?"_

_"I know I feel the same about you."_

_"If there is ever anything I can do for you, to bring you some happiness or ease your pain... if it is in my power, I will do it."_

_His words were not an idle vow, she recognized. He would do almost anything for her. In some ways, Anna found that knowledge reassuring, but in other ways... she worried. _

_"It would bring me great happiness if you would keep reading," she told him._

_He smiled at her warmly before returning his eyes to the book to read out the rest of the sonnet. "For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings, that then I scorn to change my state with kings," he finished._

Anna's reverie was broken as her attention suddenly caught some movement outside the book shop window. A man walked past on the street outside, and Anna recognized him as much from his gait and figure as his face.

Mr. Green. Lord Gillingham's valet. He was there, right outside.

Anna froze in place for a moment, her heart pounding wildly.

She waited for the memory to overwhelm her again, to relieve that horrible night. The unexpected sight of him would do it, she assumed, especially if he was to see her. That horrible, vile man.

But the moment passed and Anna found herself still in control. She realized that Green seemed to have no intention of entering the shop. Rather, he was faced towards the street, as though looking for a break in traffic to attempt a crossing. Morbidly, Anna found herself drawn to the glass door of the shop, never taking her eyes off the vile man.

As though a moth drawn to the destructive blaze of the candle flame, Anna took a tentative step outside, her eyes never straying from Mr. Green's back. She wondered how he could not feel her gaze drilling holes into the back of his head. Would she could wound him with a glance, he'd be dead at her feet.

And as she moved closer, Anna experienced a personal revelation. She was no longer afraid of this man. The terror which had gripped her gut like a vice for so long suddenly relaxed, and she could finally appreciate her own anger.

Not only had Green violated her, but he'd hurt her husband as well. He'd turned their entire world upside down with the actions of a single horrible night. She could still remember his words ringing in her ears as he left her broken and bleeding and crying on the boot room floor.

_"You've been flirting with me for days, Mrs. Bates. No one will believe you if you tell."_

_"They will. And when my husband knows..." she said through her sob. _

_"That tired old cripple," Green said archly. "Even if he has the guts to come after me, he'll be arrested if he lays one hand on me. And he's a convicted felon, isn't he? He'll go to prison for a long time."_

_The thought of her husband incarcerated again chilled her, but Anna still responded, "If he gets hold of you, you won't live to call the police."_

_Clearly, Green did not believe her, did not credit her statement as the utter truth she knew it to be. He responded, "Unlikely love, but even if he managed to kill me, he'd surely hang. Is that what you want, Mrs. Bates, to see your husband executed for your indiscretions? What a selfish woman you are."_

_Despite his self satisfied smirk, Anna found herself agreeing with Mr. Green the moment he left her there. She could not risk Mr. Bates' future by telling him what had occurred. His own personal code of honor would dictate that he seek vengeance, for her. But the death of Mr. Green could not turn back the clock and prevent the assault, nor would losing her husband to the executioner. _

But instead of her usual resignation, standing on that sidewalk, Anna found herself experiencing a wave of anger and indignation for the position Green had left her in - not only injuried and violated but forced to choose between justice for herself and the life of the man she loved. Green was to blame for what occurred that night; he and he alone. She had done nothing to encourage him, nor did she in any way deserve what he had done to her. Rather, his actions demonstrated him to be a miserable excuse for a human being.

Stepping forward, Anna found herself within a few feet of Green, his back still to her. She wanted to strike out at him, to beat him the way he'd beaten her. She pictured herself screaming at him, exposing him before all the world as half of London walked down that busy street. She even considered threatening him, telling him that she would finally report him to the police or even let Mr. Bates have a go at him and risk prison afterall.

Ultimately, she did none of these things. Instead, she watched as he took a step off the curb away from her and into the street. Cars and lorries were moving up and down the road so swiftly that she quickly lost sight of him as he darted between vehicles.

"Excuse me, miss, but you'll have to pay for that or give it back."

The voice startled her and Anna turned to see the book shop keeper standing behind her. He nodded to her hand and looking down, she realized she'd unintentionally walked out of the store with the book of Shakespeare's sonnets she'd been holding, so intent was she on Mr. Green.

"I'm so sorry," she said, offering it back to him. "I saw someone out here I thought I knew and completely forgot I had it in hand."

The man clucked at her excuse but let it go. "Yes well, see it don't happen again," he warned, taking back the book before returning to his shop.

Just as the door closed behind him, Anna's attention was drawn back to the road by the sound of a horn followed by a chorus of shouts. Traffic came to a stop as pedestrians moved forward through the cars towards some commotion. People emerged from their vehicles, twisting their bodies to try and catch sight of the source of the ruckus. Anna followed others and found herself in the back of a crowd gathered round a man lying in the street. One look at his vacant eyes and mangled limbs showed he was beyond the aid of any doctor, but Anna was more focused on his face.

Mr. Green.

He was dead. Hit by a car or lorry while crossing the road.

Anna took a step back from the scene, her mind suddenly racing. She knew all too well from her husband's trial how bad even circumstantial facts could look. If someone saw her near Green's body, they might suspect she'd had something to do with his death, that it wasn't an accident. He was close enough to the curb that he might have been pushed or tripped into the road.

Moving against the tide of curious onlookers, Anna made her way down the street and away from the scene. She needed to get back to Lady Rosamund's house as quickly as possible.

But as she neared the curb, she recognized another person crossing the street towards her, threading easily through the stopped traffic.

"Lady Mary," she said, breathing the name in surprise.

Her Ladyship seemed just as shocked at seeing her maid.

"Anna," the woman gasped before quickly composing herself. Looking back at the crowd around Mr. Green's body, she asked, "Did you see what happened?"

"I didn't see it," Anna said, "But a man seems to have been struck."

"And killed," Lady Mary added, her eyes wide with shock.

"Did you witness it, milady?" she asked, suddenly concerned for her employer. While Her Ladyship had finally begun to move beyond the unfortunate death of Mr. Matthew, the sight of a man killed by a car was sure to unsettle her.

Pressing her lips together, Mary glanced back at the scene before answering, "No I didn't. Did you see anything?"

Anna shook her head. She hated to lie, but admitting that she'd seen it was Mr. Green dead in the road would look too suspicious.

"What a tragedy," Mary said, almost dryly, and Anna studied the gentlewoman's features.

She did not look the way she did upon learning of Mr. Matthew's death. Rather, her expression showed a sort of unrepentant guilt, as though she were more worried about consequences than actions. It many ways, her countenance reminded Anna of the night of Mr. Pamuk's death.

It occurred to Anna to wonder at Lady Mary being present so close in time and place to Green's sudden end.

Quite suddenly, Mary turned to look at her housemaid, her own eyes reflecting the questions stirring in Anna's mind. "Strange we should run into each other here, just after this terrible thing has happened."

Anna simply could not tell if Her Ladyship intended to voice suspicion of her or to assure her maid that she held no such suspicion. Perhaps Lady Mary had seen Mr. Green on the street as well. Perhaps Lady Mary - emotional, calculating, and decisive Lady Mary - had taken matters into her own hands.

Or maybe it was just as she'd said, a tragic accident.

Still, their presence on the street so near Mr. Green's body would draw suspicion of foul play if anyone ever found out. Either reading Anna's mind or realizing the knowledge for herself, Lady Mary suggested brightly, "We could share a taxi back to the house... Assuming you are done with your afternoon?"

"I think so, milady," Anna answered with certainty, still shaken.

"Excellent. When we get back I want you to lay out my green dress, the one you just mended. I wore it a few weeks ago at home and wanted to get another use out of it before retiring it upstairs..."

As they continued down the street in search of a taxi, Mary continued with her instructions and Anna nodded dutifully, desperate to ignore the incident which had just occurred. She focused on Her Ladyship's confident voice, following it until the world came back into focus and she could see more than the image of Green lying dead in the road.

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: Last chapter! Thanks for everyone who has left reviews or messaged to let me know how they liked the story. I have a mind towards an epilogue or a sequel if there's enough interest, but I may just leave it here.

* * *

They returned to Downton the next day. If Anna thought the trip to London ended more abruptly than she expected, she made no mention of it. Truthfully, she was glad to go home, even if she knew her husband would not be waiting to greet her. She sat next to Lady Mary on the train, but their ride was blessedly without conversation. Not until they stepped down onto the platform did Mary say anything about their adventure the day before.

"What were you doing in Piccadilly yesterday, Anna? I had forgotten to ask you."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Just walking about, doing a little shopping, milady. I stopped into a book store there."

"Did you buy anything?"

Anna sensed that the question held a deeper meaning than she could discern.

"No. No, I didn't, milady."

Smiling at her in what could only be described as relief, Mary said, "That's good. Very good, Anna. Perhaps we shouldn't discuss what we saw with the others? I think it might be too shocking."

"Of course."

"Auto accidents are a terrible thing," she said knowingly, her eyes holding distant memories at bay. "I'd hate to upset anyone."

"Yes they are," Anna agreed. "And I hope you know... I would never do anything to... make things difficult for you, milady."

"Nor I you, Anna," Lady Mary said, her own voice thick with meaning.

"Then it's agreed," the Anna stated. "Now if you'll excuse me, Your Ladyship, I'll make sure they have the luggage brought to the car."

* * *

The post had come that morning, and with all the bustle of preparing for the church bazaar, Anna had to steal moments to slip it out of her pocket and re-read the newest missive from her husband.

_My Darling Anna,_

_I'm not sure when Lord Grantham intends to return home, but it cannot be too much longer as his business here is coming to a close. I can't wait to share with you all the things I have seen here. This separation reminds me of my time in prison, when I angered the warden and they held the mail and stopped your visits. Did I ever tell you how afraid I was that you'd given up on me? I was a fool for even considering it. You have always been my greatest champion. But I was overjoyed when I received your letters, all together in a bundle._

_I wish I could tell you in person, as I promised, but let me tell you again now - you are beautiful, Anna Bates. Even thousands of miles away, I have eyes only for you. You are in my thoughts every waking hour and each night I can hardly sleep but for dreams of you._

_I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again. I hope you well._

_Your adoring husband_

"He's rather a romantic sap," a voice from behind her startled Anna. Turning, she saw Thomas standing to her left, his height allowing him to read over her shoulder.

"This is my private letter," she scolded him.

With a shrug, he responded, "Then perhaps you should read it in private. Not that I saw anything in it to be ashamed of."

"Did you want something, Thomas?"

"Only to say that it seems Lord Gillingham is valet-less on this trip. While he was sacked some time ago, it seems the ever-popular Mr. Green was killed in an accident in London just a few days ago."

Anna struggled not to react, not to show that she already knew and that the news was anything but tragic to her.

"How terrible," she managed unsympathetically.

"Isn't it, though?" Thomas asked, just as lacking in feeling for the dead valet. "Apparently he was hit by a lorry in Piccadilly. Middle of the day. Lots of people around. A sad accident."

Thomas' keen eyes watched her closely, perhaps too closely. He did not need to ask about when she'd gotten back from London with Lady Mary as it was clear he already knew.

"Did you hear this from Lord Gillingham?" Anna asked casually.

"No, actually. I have some friends in London that heard about it. One was even there when it happened, in the crowd that saw the body in the street."

Anna's heart, already pounding faster, began to rush in her ears. "What a coincidence," she remarked.

"See, I think it's odd you didn't know already, seeing as how my friend saw Lady Mary on the street close to where Mr. Green was hit. She must have seen the whole thing. Did she never mention it to you?"

Anna shook her head even as she reeled at Thomas' words. He knew Lady Mary was there. Some 'friend' had seen her. Had the same friend seen Anna there as well? It occurred to her that might be why Lady Mary was relieved to hear she had not bought anything. While store owners would not remember individual browsers, receipts of sale could be used as evidence to prove a person's location on a specific date.

"Maybe it was too chaotic, hard to tell what was happening," she ventured.

Thomas nodded, pretending to be satisfied. "Perhaps. And perhaps it wasn't Lady Mary at all he saw."

"Probably not. She'd have said something."

"Still... no more Mr. Green," Thomas remarked. "I know some of the others will regret not seeing him again. But not you and I."

Anna searched Thomas' eyes for his second meaning, for that something more she so often recognized in his scheming character. But for once, she saw only satisfaction and a touch of friendly camaraderie.

Something else occurred to her. "Your friend must have written to you very quickly. We just got back from London the day before yesterday."

Thomas smiled at her observation. "I saw him in York that evening on my day off."

"You went to York that day?"

How easy it would have been for him to take a train from York to London. But why would Thomas have been in London? Unless his hatred of Mr. Green extended even further than she thought. Before Anna's mind could quite wrap around whether to suspect Thomas as Mr. Green's killer or maybe just another bystander in Piccadilly that day, he handed her something.

"What's this?" she asked, accepting the weighty object.

"Mr. Bates did me a good turn a while back. Consider this my repayment of his generosity."

Examining the book he'd handed her, Anna realized at once it was the volume of Shakespeare's sonnets from the book shop, the one she'd inadvertently walked away with before the store owner had taken it back from her.

So Thomas had been in Piccadilly that day. He'd not only seen Lady Mary there but Anna as well. And if he knew about the book, if he'd gone back and bought it after she and Mary left the scene, then he knew she was not the one responsible for Green's death, if indeed anyone was responsible beyond fate.

"Thank you," she managed.

Distantly, Anna heard Lady Grantham giving instructions to someone to direct the driver of a car coming up the lane to park elsewhere. She and Thomas both recognized the occupant of the vehicle at the same time.

Lord Grantham.

That meant Mr. Bates was with him. He had returned from America with Lord Grantham.

Thomas flashed her a smile that almost seemed genuine. "Finally, I won't have to watch you mooning over your silly letters like a lovesick school girl anymore."

He drifted back into the bazaar as everyone around them rushed to meet the Earl. Anna found herself nearly at a run to meet the car's other occupant. While Lord Grantham greeted his family, she circled to the other side of the car to greet Mr. Bates.

Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over by the force of her embrace. But Bates did not protest - rather, he hugged her back just as fiercely.

"I missed you so much," she whispered against him.

"Not as much as I missed you."

They parted then, and a glance in the direction of the others showed a kindly smile from Lady Mary and a displeased scowl from Mr. Carson at their public show of affection.

Ignoring them, Bates had only eyes for his wife.

"You look well," he noted.

"So do you."

"No, I mean... you seem to have improved while I was gone."

Shyly, Anna dipped her head and found herself smiling. "I hope so."

In truth, she'd felt rather relieved since that day on Piccadilly, knowing that not only was Mr. Green dead and unable to hurt her, but also that she no longer had to worry about her husband going after the man. Finally, it seemed she was able to truly begin healing.

After everyone had properly greeted the two men and Lady Grantham had chastised her husband for not sending word of his arrival, they returned to the bazaar. Lady Mary gave Anna leave to spend some time catching up with her husband and the two of them took a walk on the grounds away from the gathering.

"How was America?" she asked.

"It was... an experience," he answered. "Very different from here, but also very similar." Seeing the book in her hand, he asked, "What's that?"

"Oh, just a gift from Thomas," she explained, handing him the volume.

Raising an eyebrow at the contents, Bates commented, "My, I have been gone a while if Thomas is now in the habit of gifting you with poetry."

"He's been a surprisingly good friend since you've been gone. Everyone has been so kind, really."

For an hour they walked while he told her stories from the trip, amusing her with tales of Lord Grantham's distaste at American customs and food, not to mention the way Americans put ice into all their drinks. As he spoke, she threaded her arm through his, no longer wary of the physical contact. He paused at the touch but quickly continued speaking as he gave her a warm smile.

"And how have things been here?" he asked finally.

"Good," she answered. "Lady Edith is going to Switzerland for a while with Lady Rosamund, apparently to improve her French." This news earned a raised eyebrow from Mr. Bates but nothing more. "The pigs have arrived and are doing well, although that's a story I'll have to tell you later. Lady Mary still has not chosen a suitor, even though she seems to get a new one very month. Poor sods." He chuckled at Anna's statement. "And there is one other thing."

She grew serious, knowing that this news was not as light hearted as the rest. Ostensibly, she'd officially just learned it a little while ago from Thomas. She still had not worked out if Thomas suspected her or Lady Mary, or if he himself had somehow been behind Mr. Green's death. But none of that mattered at the moment.

"You remember Mr. Green, Lord Gillingham's valet?" she began. Her husband's arm stiffened against her and he stopped walking.

"I remember." His voice rumbled like a beat of stray thunder in the distance.

Forcing her own voice to sound disinterested, as though she were simply passing the time of day, Anna went on, "It seems he was killed in London last week. An accident in Piccadilly. He fell into the road and was hit by a lorry or something."

Time seemed to stop for a moment as Mr. Bates turned to his wife. "Really?" he asked, a strange mixture of relief and disappointment evident on his face.

"So we don't have to worry about him again," Anna said with finality, her meaning clear. She no longer had to worry about Mr. Bates killing the man. And Mr. Bates could let go of any need to avenge her.

"He just... fell into the road?"

"Well, he was crossing the road between vehicles. Maybe he wasn't seen by the driver."

Anna stopped as she realized she was describing what she'd seen, which was well beyond what Thomas had shared with her. Her husband watched her with a sort of suspicious curiosity.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked.

Of course Mr. Bates would see right through her.

"Later," she promised, knowing she would have to admit to him the whole truth, although perhaps not the part about Lady Mary. But she could not tell him in the open where anyone could walk by. "When we're home."

Pushing aside all thoughts of Mr. Green, Anna gave him a renewed smile.

"I'm so glad you're back."

"I'm glad to be back." Reaching out a hand to touch the side of her face, Bates added, "You were always in my thoughts. Every hour we were away."

"It was hard with you gone," she admitted. "Harder than I thought it would be. There were a few times I wasn't sure I had the strength to do it without you. But I got through."

"And you seem stronger for it," he pointed out, pride evident in his smile.

Squaring her shoulders, Anna nodded. "I am stronger. I know I'm not truly over it yet-"

"No one expects you to be."

"-but I feel like I'm finding my way through."

Anna doubted she'd ever get over it entirely. That horrible night had changed her. But she'd learned to recognize that none of it was her fault. Her worth was not measured by the actions of one evil, violent man. Instead, her worth was reflected back at her in the loving eyes of the only man she'd ever wanted.

As they wandered back to the bazaar, still arm-in-arm, Anna knew that this was not the perfect ending to this chapter of their lives. But at least with Green's death, they'd achieved some resolution. And most importantly, they hadn't lost each other in the darkness.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
